


Boot Licking

by orphan_account



Series: Tarkrennic [1]
Category: Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Boot Worship, Collars, Footjob, Kinda, Leather Kink, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Riding Crops, Spanking, Uniform Kink, leather harness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Come here.” Tarkin ordered.Hesitantly, Krennic started to take a step forwards, stopping immediately when when Tarkin raised one of his long fingers.“Ah-ah!” He waved his finger back and forth “On your knees.”





	Boot Licking

“Come here.” Tarkin ordered.

Krennic started to take a step forwards, but was stopped immediately when Tarkin raised one of his long fingers.

“Ah-ah!” He waved his finger back and forth “On your knees.”

Krennic flushed, his brows tensing as heat pooled over his ears. The sheer gall of Tarkin’s actions drove him mad. He was treating Krennic like a child, leaving him utterly humiliated...And that was exactly why Krennic _ loved  _ it. He bent down onto one knee, and then the next, his eyes never leaving Tarkin’s. Krennic was completely nude save for a white leather harness decorated with golden studs and a matching collar that dug into his neck uncomfortably, forcing him to keep his head held high just to breath. The mere act of being dressed this way, presented before his lover, his  _ owner _ , had him half-hard - something that Tarkin had definitely noticed.

“Look at you, Orson…” Tarkin started as Krennic dropped onto all fours, beginning to crawl towards the seated Moff “...We’ve barely even started and you’re already hard. You really are shameless, you know that?” Tarkin’s lips curled into a disapproving snarl, but his snide comments did little to actually hurt Krennic. Hell, if anything, it encouraged him. He  _ was _ shameless; both inside and outside of the bedroom. Or, rather, the office; Krennic had made sure that Tarkin’s office aboard the Death Star was carpeted for  _ precisely _ this reason. He simply couldn’t resist getting to service the Grand Moff directly in his work place. There was something so scandalous about using such a formal setting for something so...Naughty. And the window...Tarkin was allowed a glorious view out into space, and it gave their little interludes a sense of openness - as if anyone could look through and catch them in the act. It was a ridiculous idea, of course, but it was still there, and it was all Krennic needed.

Tarkin sat in his classic, high-backed chair, reclining comfortably. One of his gaunt hands was draped over an armrest, but the other was held waiting on the desk. He held something in his hand, but Krennic couldn’t quite make it out at his angle. Tarkin’s legs were splayed out ever so slightly, exposing the crotch of his jodhpurs. He was still in full uniform - dressed to a T as always - his pristine boots shining in the dim, blue lighting of the room. Krennic wondered if he would get the chance to ruin that clean uniform. Never once in the twenty years they had known each other had he seen Tarkin’s uniform get ruined. The punishment for doing so would be severe, of course, and Krennic looked forwards to it.

Stopping obediently between Tarkin’s legs, Krennic looked up at him with wide eyes, awaiting his next order. With a cheeky smile, he even went as far as to wiggle his butt, earning a chuckle from Tarkin.

“Good boy.” Tarkin said, running a hand through Krennic’s salt-and-pepper hair

“ _ Arf _ .” Krennic replied, Tarkin grimaced. That went a bit too far for him, Krennic knew, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“Now...What to do with you?” Tarkin tilted his head, pondering. Krennic knew it was all for show - Tarkin always thoroughly planned out their little interludes, and Krennic had asked that he be kept in the dark, loving the thrill of never knowing what Tarkin was going to put him through “Oh, I know…” Tarkin smirked, a glint in his eye “...You could start by licking my boots.”

Krennic winced. They looked freshly polished. Not only was there little to clean, but nothing was sexy about a mouthful of boot polish. Oh well, it didn’t hurt to try. Tarkin pushed a boot towards Krennic, waiting expectantly for him to get started. Krennic gave him a weak smile before setting to work, placing either hand on the boot’s calf and pressing his face against it. It was soft, strong, forming to Tarkin’s calf perfectly. It reeked of the chemicals used to keep it shiny and new, leaving Krennic a little light headed. Regaining eye contact with his dom, he ran his lips down the leather boots, peppering it with soft kisses until he bent all the way down to the man’s ankle. Then, parting his lips, he closed his mouth over the soft leather of Tarkin’s boot. To his surprise, it didn’t taste quite as nasty as he was expecting. It was still horrid, of course; the polish stinging like pure alcohol on his tongue, but it wasn’t gag inducing. 

“Good boy.” Tarkin said, his voice low. The humiliating praise made Krennic burn, and he began to lick the boot with earnest, broad swipes of his tongue covering every inch of the black leather. The taste only got worse as he continued, but he had already gotten this far. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Krennic grew ever more preoccupied with his own growing erection. He imagine himself rutting against Tarkin’s boot, staring deep into his eyes pleadingly in hopes that he would allow his release. Maybe Tarkin would press his heel against his...Krennic felt Tarkin’s hand return to his head, fingers lacing through his hair and tugging at it. Evidently, Krennic had missed a spot. He finished it up, and got a quick pat on the cheek to congratulate him before Tarkin sat back up.

Done with the first boot, he moved onto the second, making quick work of the thing. His hands Press against Tarkin’s calves, trying to massage them through the fitting leather. He let his fingers trace over the exquisite stitching, the careful details...They followed the seam drew down to the heel, and Krennic looked up at Tarkin, asking wordlessly for permission to remove them and get the chance to suckle on the man’s perfect little toes. Tarkin pursed his lips, considering it, then shook his head.

“No...Perhaps another time. Up!” His voice rose, guiding Krennic up with a finger. Krennic tilted his head, rising to his knees. He didn’t have to wait, however, for Tarkin to tell him what his next goal was; the man’s pants had tightened considerably, his cock pushing harshly against the thick fabric. With a lick of his lips, Krennic ran his hands up Tarkin’s thighs towards his crotch, but was stopped when something hard came across his cheek, the sharp slap echoing across the room. It didn’t hurt more than a few seconds, but the noise was more than enough to send him reeling back. Krennic’s eyes darted around wildly for whatever hit him, and before he could find it it was on his nose. He pulled his head back, eyes almost crossing to try and focus on the thin, black thing. It was a riding crop. Tarkin held it loosely in his hand. So that was what he had been hiding. Krennic grinned, his cock twitching. He hoped it wouldn’t only come in contact with his  _ face _ .

“Did I say you could move your hands?” Tarkin tutted “Use your  _ teeth _ .” Krennic swallowed, nodding up at those piercing blue eyes. He folded his arms behind his back and leaned forwards between Tarkin’s legs, pressing his mouth against the lump in his pants. He mouthed at Tarkin’s cock through the fabric, breathing hard so as to get his hot breath against it. Tarkin was a very quiet man, infuriatingly so, but Krennic had learned Tarkin’s queues. The Grand Moff held his breath, his chest quivering as he tried to control his breathing. That fitted uniform revealed way too much, forming to his body perfectly...Dressed, Tarkin was almost as beautiful as he was nude.

Almost.

When Krennic had had his fun, he nuzzled against the pants until he found the fly, nosing past it to gain access to the zipper. The metal scratched against his teeth uncomfortably, but he was determined to prove his worth. Tarkin breathed a small sigh of relief as the zipper was pulled, finally alleviating the pressure. Krennic immediately snatched it up, pulling the rest of it out of Tarkin’s pants with his lips and downing his entire member in one go. Tarkin gasped, both his hands flying to Krennic’s shoulders and pulling him off.

“ _ Down _ boy.”

Krennic whined, looking up at Tarkin with big, puppy dog eyes. Tarkin rolled his own, sighing.

“Must I use the crop again?”

Krennic’s brows raised, and a sly smile spread across his face “...I have been very naughty. So...Over eager.” Tarkin shook his head, incredulous.

“You are utterly shameless, you know that? Fine, fine...If I must.” Tarkin found the crop again and rose to his feet “Turn around.” Krenni’s breathing hitched. Was he really going to…? Oh  _ hell  _ yes. Krennic turned on his knees, doing his best not to peer back at Tarkin over a shoulder. “Move your hands.” Krennic still had his hands behind his back, no doubt hiding his plump ass from Tarkin’s line of sight. He moved them forwards. “On your hands. Now, boy.” Krennic felt the crop tap against his shoulder blades. A shiver ran up his spine, and he fell forwards onto his hands. Tarkin didn’t have to ask for him to perk his ass in the air; he did that willingly.

“Do you know why I’m having to punish you, my dear Orson?” Tarkin asked. Krennic hummed happily

“No.”

“What was that?”

“No,  _ sir _ .”

“Watch your tone.”

“ _ Make me _ .” Krennic hissed, growing tired with just how slowly Tarkin was taking this. Tarkin fell silent, causing the hair on the back of Krennic’s neck to rise up in anticipation. The sharp  _ whap _ against his ass cheek had his entire body shaking. It was such a sharp, fast pain, and the noise that accompanied it...He groaned. Tarkin hit him again, doubling his effort. It stung like hell. Perfect.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you,  _ boy _ ?” Tarkin said before hitting him again, bringing the crop down across his ass once more “You’re such a little  _ slut _ .” Tarkin paused, no doubt reeling his arm back in preparation “Look at you; the creator of the Death Star, now on his hands and knees...Getting beaten by a Grand Moff, and  _ enjoying it _ .”

A final hit had Krennic seeing stars, and he moaned loudly in response. Fuck yes he was. Look at how low he had been brought. It was truly shameful, he was ashamed of it, his whole body growing hot and sweaty. He feel down onto one of his forearms, burying his face into the nook of it, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“ _ Get up _ ” Tarkin hissed, prodding at him with his foot “Back on your knees. You’re not finished, yet.”

Krennic took a second to regroup before pushing himself back up. His chest of heaving, the leather feeling like it was cutting into his skin. His ass stung like hell...and he was  _ loving _ it. His dick was impossibly hard, pre dripping from it and running down his length. Tarkin saw this as Krennic turned back around, and he brought his crop against it. Krennic froze, holding his breath as the leather tip of the crop pressed against his cockhead. Tarkin craned his neck, pushing the crop around to inspect Krennic’s shame. He pulled it down a little, then let his dick bounce back, watching it bob stiffly back into an upright position. Tarkin let out a soft, approving hum, before finally pulling the crop away. For a second, Krennic was worried that he was going to bring it back against his member. He wasn’t sure he could handle that kind of abuse just yet. Thankfully, instead, Tarkin brought the crop up to Krennic’s face.

“Clean it.” Tarkin ordered. Krennic wrinkled his nose - it wasn’t  _ his _ fault it had gotten dirty- but stuck his tongue out to lick off the pre that stuck to the crop anyway “Good boy. Now...You may return to taking care of me.  _ Slowly _ , this time.”

Krennic nodded obediently, noticing that Tarkin had gotten no less harder since his punishment began. The man’s thin length stood proud outside of his pants; not quite as tall as Krennic remembered it once being, but such was the effect of age. The lean, strong thing looked exactly like its owner, and Krennic was happy to serve it as he did Tarkin. Carefully, he rose his hands to Tarkin’s thighs, looking up to him before making contact. Tarkin nodded, and Krennic wrapped his hands around Tarkin’s thighs, groping at them through the fabric. Even as old as he was, he was still incredibly well toned, whereas Krennic had lost much of his definition...Though then again, he didn’t have much to begin with. 

Krennic took his time this time, running his tongue up the entire length of Tarkin's shaft before pulling it into gently his mouth. He sunk down until he felt his head press against the back of his throat, then drew back, his tongue dancing over it. Every time he went down, he pushed himself to take a little more. It wasn’t long before Krennic managed to reach Tarkin’s hips, his nose pressing into his pubes. The man smelled  _ amazing _ , as always; the smell of lavender, linens, and the barest hint of musk.

As Krennic pulled back again, his eyes watering from the strain of deepthroating, he looked up at Tarkin, who stared down with slightly parted lips and brows furrowed in concentration. It wasn’t long now, Krennic knew. He stayed at Tarkin’s tip for a few long seconds, running his tongue along the slit and then swirling it around, then pressed down again, all while maintaining eye contact. That was it; Tarkin let out a grunt, he eyes squeezing shut, and Krennic felt him spill against the back of his throat. Krennic swallowed it all hungrily, giving Tarkin’s cock a few extra laps for good measure.

When he was all done cleaning, Tarkin ran his hand through Krennic hair lovingly “Good boy.” Krennic hummed appreciatively, leaning into Tarkin’s touch. He closed his eyes and let the older man pet and scratch, allowing him at least this much pet play. Krennic’s eyes snapped open, however, when he felt the toe of Tarkin’s boot press against his still-hard dick. He glanced up at Tarkin when the movement stopped.

“Do you think you’ve been good enough to deserve this, Orson?”

“Yes, sir.” Krennic said, his voice hoarse. Tarkin’s foot moved again, rubbing up until the entire flat of his boot rested on Krennic’s cock, where it stopped again. Krennic whimpered, his hips bucking. Kriffing hell, did he have to draw  _ everything _ out like this? “Please, sir.”

“I grow weary of this.” Tarkin said, tucking himself back into his pants “You can finish yourself off against my boot - Oh, and do be careful; you wouldn’t want to ruin the polish.” Tarkin pretended to sigh and look off out the window at something that was more interesting, but even in the dim light Krennic could  _ see _ the smirk on the man’s face. As much as Krennic wanted to object, however, at this point, he wasn’t above fucking Tarkin’s boot. Krennic placed his hands on Tarkin’s foot to keep it in place, and began to rut against it feverishly. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing he had ever rubbed his cock against, but he had already been brought close to the edge by the rest of the night. He moaned and panted, pressing against the bottom of Tarkin’s boot as hard as he could manage, his cock between the sole and his own, warm skin.

“Slut.” Tarkin muttered under her breath, and Krennic came. His eye twitched, and he let out loud, shaking moan. Tarkin pulled his boot away, looking it over to make sure none of it had gotten sullied as Krennic crumpled to the floor, spent. He breathed heavily, barely registering as Tarkin squatted next to and started to undo his collar.

“Good boy.”


End file.
